


And I will sing a lullaby

by ConfusedStateOfMind



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Annabeth Chase is a good mom, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kid Fic, Mother-Son Relationship, Original Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson Child(ren) - Freeform, Pregnancy, Sleepy Cuddles, minor PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfusedStateOfMind/pseuds/ConfusedStateOfMind
Summary: Annabeth never thought she’d make it to this point. Heroes don’t get happy endings, it was the oldest story in the book, and she not once knew growing up if they were exceptions.Their lives had been long, hard journeys, they should’ve died a long time ago. But yet—against all odds—they had managed to survive through it all.———Annabeth has a soft moment with her son.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Kudos: 93





	And I will sing a lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Golden Slumbers by The Beatles

Annabeth stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her hand unconsciously rubbing her flat stomach. 

She let out a sigh as she looked at herself, tilting her head slightly to the side. Her skin looked brighter, her body was starting to bloat. Paired with a good helping of morning sickness, Annabeth felt stranger and stranger in her own body. 

Hey eyes glanced to the open doorway, where in the next room over, Percy was going through some old photos and relics they had gathered over the years. 

She smiled to herself. 

Annabeth never thought she’d make it to this point. Heroes don’t get happy endings, it was the oldest story in the book, and she not once knew growing up if they were exceptions. 

Their lives had been long, hard journeys, they should’ve died a long time ago. But yet—against all odds—they had managed to survive through it all.

  
  


“What about Ophelia, for a girl?” Percy called out from where he sat on their bed. 

Annabeth grinned and placed a hand on her stomach, still looking at herself in the mirror. “Irrelevant, because it’s going to be a boy.”

Percy let out a chuckle from the room over,  and Annabeth moved away from the mirror to lean in the doorway. He looked much more mature,  _ older _ , sitting there in sweatpants and a t-shirt. So different from the adolescent boy who stumbled into camp one night with a minotaur skull in hand. And yet, his green eyes still had the same mischievous shimmer as he smirked at her. 

“Right, well then if you’re  _ so  _ sure, what do  _ you  _ want to name him?”

Annabeth bit her lip and smiled. 

“I like the name Cole. Or Esdras.” 

“ _ Esdras? _ ” 

“It’s the Greek version of the name Ezra. Means helper, I think.” Percy looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh, and she sighed in defeat, a small smile on her face. 

“Well, I personally think that if it’s a boy, we should name him Michael.” 

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at his suggestion and Percy's grin grew wider. 

“So that his name would be Michael Jackson.”

If Annabeth was holding something, she probably would’ve chucked it at him. Instead, she rolled her eyes playfully, stood straight and walked over to the bed, sitting next to him. 

Percy placed a soft kiss to her forehead, her cheek, and finally softly on the lips. He pulled away, his face suddenly serious with all trace of joking gone, and her eyebrows furrowed slightly with concern. 

“What about Luke?” He suggested softly, his eyes searching hers. 

A bittersweet smile grew on Annabeth's lips, and she placed another soft kiss to Percy's mouth.

It was a sweet smile, with happiness and sadness there. 

“I love it. There’s no rush, though, in choosing names. We have plenty of time.”

Annabeth pondered his suggestion later that night while she laid in bed, and that bittersweet smile grew as tears formed in her eyes, warmth spread through her body at the idea of Percy considering the name of her old friend, their old enemy, the hero who saved the world from Kronos, of honouring him by making him the namesake of their son.

  
  


———

Annabeth woke to the drowsy drizzle of rain on the window. The room was silent besides the muted drumming of rainfall and the in-and-out of Percy's breathing beside her. It was still dark outside, the alarm clock on her bedside table read 1:45 in a too bright of a red light that hurt her eyes. 

It still took her aback sometimes, how different her life was now, compared to her childhood. These quiet moments that could exist in their home, peaceful and uninterrupted, fascinated her; Annabeth never quite liked the quiet before. 

When she was younger, Annabeth would always feel uneasy when surrounded by silence, relying on the people and things around her to work as background noises. 

The continuous inhales and exhales of her siblings in the Athena cabin on warm summer nights, the sound of traffic outside her dorm window at her old high school, the rhythmic tick of her fathers old antique clock that rested in the hallway just outside of her old bedroom.

Even after she and Percy moved into their first apartment, the sound of her boyfriend's breathing combined by the soft buzzing of the cheap AC unit and the traffic outside provided her with the perfect background noise. 

Then Luke was born and his cries were a jarring thing, dragging Annabeth and Percy from sleep or sometimes, dragging her from her own thoughts. 

When their son had just been born, Annabeth and Percy were new parents, unsure of everything, ecstatic but at the same time terrified. 

Looking back now was still enough to make Annabeth's stomach do a flip. 

Annabeth turned on her back, listening to the rain drop outside, and listened for every creak and groan of the apartment. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, the shadows shifted until they were easier to tell apart. She tilted her head towards Percy, barely able to make out his silhouette in the dark. 

He’s faced away from her, spread out on the mattress, and he barely stirred when she traced her fingertips against the small of his back, his achilles spot when they were kids. It always fascinated her, even when she was a teenager, how he trusted her enough at his most vulnerable stage, asleep, and how he could sleep undisturbed even as she got up out of the bed.

The wooden floor was cold underfoot, the door creaked open and Percy turned, stretched out on his back beneath the blankets and Annabeth smiled faintly before she turned and left the bedroom. 

The hall was a little bit brighter than their room, nightlights lined the base of the walls making it easier to see. Annabeth had come up with the idea when Luke first started sneaking out of his bed at night and crept into theirs. 

  
  


Annabeth was accustomed to the giant wall of fur that appeared once she opened her son's bedroom door. She maneuvered herself around Mrs. O’leary, who took up almost all of Luke's room as he slept, her son's constant guardian these past four years. 

The hellhound paid no attention to her, dozing peacefully as Annabeth entered. 

Annabeth scratched Mrs. O’leary’s ear in the dancing lights cast by the lantern Tyson had built for Luke when he was born, featuring the Gods in different poses, and constellations glittering in all different colours. 

Luke slept soundly, unbothered by Annabeth's entrance, he clutched the Finding Nemo stuffed animal Thalia had given him when he was a baby in his arms, his breathing soft as she lowered herself onto the mattress beside him. 

The rain fell harder now, beating with a greater urgency against the creaky window. Annabeth pressed a kiss against the top of Luke’s unruly black hair, and wrapped an arm around his small body and curled her own body around her son.

“Mama?” Luke whispered drowsily, turning in Annabeth's grasp. The storm worsened outside, and Annabeth internally cursed at Zeus, but Luke didn’t seem to be scared, instead he wiggled closer against her. He buried his tiny face against Annabeth's neck, and Annabeth curled her body around his. Her beautiful son, this everyday miracle of hers, the thing she and Percy had prayed for for years. 

Annabeth still felt choked by how fiercely she loved him, and Gods have mercy on whoever tried to provoke it. 

When she was little, she never thought it was possible to feel this whole, this loved. Even when she’d started dating Percy, it fascinated her that she was able to love someone so unconditionally and have them love you unconditionally in return. Now here she was, almost ten years later, and nothing had changed. It was fascinating how much her and Percy had grown. How much love Annabeth felt now, holding her son in her arms even when he hadn’t cried out in fear.

Annabeth hummed a lullaby her father used to sing to her when she was little under her breath and Luke settled in her arms, his breathing easing back into sleep, warm against the beaded necklace Annabeth still wore around her neck. When he was a baby with an affinity for putting everything in his mouth, her and Percy's camp necklaces were Luke’s favorite things to grab for, more so than Sallys long brown hair or his fathers nose. It was the only thing that calmed him down, and Rachel used to joke that Luke somehow knew what importance the images painted on the beads carried, which was why he was so attached to them. They were his favourite teething toys as a toddler.

  
  
  


But the world was not a safe place for half bloods, and none of them, not Percy or any of their friends, not even Annabeth no matter how furiously she wished otherwise, could always ensure Luke’s safety. One day they’ll have to explain why they sometimes wake up screaming, or why they keep weapons hidden in high-up drawers and under loose floorboards, why they speak of people Luke will never meet. 

They’ll have to explain the wars they won, the battles they’ve fought, and prepare Luke for threats he might one day have to fight off against on his own, no matter how much they hope those days will never come to pass, no matter how much Annabeth and Percy prayed against it. 

But for now, safety, warmth and love are the only things in life Luke has ever known, he knew nothing of war and heartache, and Annabeth prayed to the Gods that it would stay that way. 

  
  


Four is still young enough for him to never wonder about any of it, not why his mother and father always whisper prayers while tucking him in at night, or why they double check the locked doors and windows before bed, not how Piper could always somehow convince him to eat his vegetables, how Grover can make flowers bloom on command inside the apartment, why Frank could change into all his favourite animals, not about all the scars on Uncle Tysons hands and arms.

At the moment, holding Luke, that day felt a hundred years away. Annabeth wouldn't let her fear convince her otherwise.

Luke went lax in her arms and Annabeth let her humming thin to silence, pressed another kiss to the top of Luke’s forehead and Annabeth said a small prayer. For Luke and Percy, for Thalia, for Tyson and Grover, Rachel and Nico, for Hazel, Leo, Frank, Piper and Jason, for her father and Sally and Paul. For whats come and what might follow. 

Annabeth focused on the rain and Luke’s soft breathing. It was incredible how much he looked like his father, especially while he slept. Annabeth’s heart did another small flip. 

She closed her eyes smiling, and held her child close, knowing that she had truly made something permanent.


End file.
